Not really
by mirbells
Summary: Brandon can't sleep. He can't stop thinking about her. Set sometime after 4x12
1. Chapter 1

The thing was, that Cortney was just being so unfair, he thought. Unfair, making it a choice between her and Julliard. He cared about her in a completely different way than he cared about Julliard. A part of him did want to stay with her in the house that they shared together. Wanted to keep sharing it. But he couldn't give up on his music. That was like saying goodbye to who he was. The foundation of everything.

Making it a choice between his dreams and her was just so.. selfish of her, he thought now with anger. _Second choice_ , she had said. Second choice, my ass. It wasn't like he wouldn't have wanted Cort and Mason to come with him. But how could he have asked that of them? He didn't want to not choose her but he also didn't want to not choose Julliard. Really unfair, everything. Or maybe he was an ass, he didn't know. He did know he grew tired thinking about it so he decided to stop.

And immediately his inner voice traveled miles away to juvenile hall. It was like it got sucked out of him and into that cell he knew she must be sleeping in right now. He wanted to tell her it was going to work out. But he didn't think she was going to appreciate that, being a person who never relied on hope. He had had his fair share of hope squashed himself, so he could relate. But he just wished he could make her feel less alone. Her life was coming crashing down and she shoudn't have to face it by herself. He'd thought that part of her life was over when she became a part of his family, became his sister. Imagining Callie not being able to sleep, alone in the dark, it made him furious. It all just felt so pointless. Just when her life seemed to be going well the universe ripped it away like som cruel joke.

He didn't want to think about this anymore either. But this, he couldn't seem to just shut out. Her frightened doe eyes kept staring at him behind his closed eyelids. Fine, he thought. I'm not going to sleep then. And he headed straight for Marianas room. It was one o'clock in the morning on a school night and the only other thing he craved besides sleep was suddenly to play the guitar. So he went to Callie's bed ignoring the emptyness of it as best he could as he retrieved it from under it. This was always calming for him, in a way that piano wasn't. Playing piano was always a thrilling challenge while the guitar was a way for him to relax.

He made sure to close his bedroom door behind him and sat down on the floor beside the bed with his back leaned against it. Not wanting to wake up the rest of the house, he pulled on the strings like they were made of glass. Altough strings made of glass didn't quite sound as good as shoes made of glass.

The melody he was starting to develop was soothing but not as soothing as it needed to be. His sister was in jail. And she needed her brother. But there were bars of steel between them, visitation rules between them and mile after mile of actual distance. If he ran there right now there would be the metal fence preventing him from even coming near the building and even if he screamed her name at the top of his lungs he doubted she'd her shit.

There was desperation in his thoughts now. And it was pulling him towards a place he didn't want to visit. He could hear himself, 16 years old and stuck there." _I wanna see her."_

He'd left that place and he didn't look back.

He thought about Cort again just to have something else to think about. Maybe he'd call her tomorrow. Because he just didn't want to let her go. She was wrong about being second choice and he would prove it to her. And if she didn't let him prove it to her he'd go to the house and sit there and wait all day if he had to.

He'd stop at nothing to get to her, to see her. He _needed_ to see her. To be with her... where she lay in the dark on a bed that probably made her back hurt... in juvie.

He stopped playing and let out a short, forceful sigh. He wanted to crush the instrument he held in his hands. It only reminded him of Callie and he started regretting even giving it to her in the first place. He wanted to crush it now to make it go away. The desperation he couldn't seem to put back inside tonight. He saw it now. Looked at it, really looked at it for the first time since Idyllwild. It was as enormous as it had always been and now it seemed to be angry at him for not wanting anything to do with it anymore.

" _I wanna se her",_ it screamed at him and he didn't know what to say back. Because he knew that and there was nothing he could do about it, but here it was demanding things he had no power to give it. He almost wanted to applaud it for being so sneaky. Here he thought he'd defeated it. But of course not. It was calculating, not making its move until it found the right time to strike. When it could disguise itself as worry for a sister for him to let it in.

And when it did, he saw life as it was. Not how he wanted it to be. And he hated it for it.

He saw that Cortney was right. She _was_ second choice. Every girl in his life always would be, because they weren't her. Maybe that's what Cortney meant, anyway, but she was kind enough not to ruin the careful facade he'd put up where Callie was his sister. But he saw now that it was never about Julliard for Cort.

The really screwed up part is that he probably would have objected in any other moment, but this one. He would have told Cortney that he loved her the most because in a fucked up way it was the truth. The Brandon that loved Cortney wasn't the Brandon that loved Callie. This Brandon was a Brandon that he'd created in order to go on living. It was a Brandon that was a brother to Callie and was happy that she was his sister now. It was a Brandon that knew nothing of hope or heartbreak or painful longing after a girl he had to have. This Brandon was _fine_. And this Brandon had met Cortney and fallen for the safety of giving his heart to someone else for it meant he was one more step away from that other dude.

The Brandon that wished he was in the cell with Callie right now. That he was her partner in crime and in every other way. This Brandon was sitting by the bed now, with her guitar in his hands. Desperation for wanting her safe, wanting her home, wanting her _with him_ had brought him there.

Great, he thought as he felt the pain, the anger, and the hopelessness all over again.

The pain of not being able to be with her. Really _be_ with her. They didn't even hang out anymore as friends. Legally, they were family but he'd never felt her farther away. Because everytime he saw her he had to leave in order for him to keep up this ridiculous picture of her as his sister in his mind.

The anger at his moms, at Aj for stealing her away from him. In different ways, but still. Moms for refusing to see what was right in front of them and telling him there was something wrong about feeling this way. And Aj for taking her into his room and stripping away her clothes and then leaving her bra on the couch for him to see. Bragging that Callie was his. Or worse, maybe not even seeing Brandon as a threat, thinking it wouldn't be a big deal for him to see it there. But it was. He should remove her bras. Not Aj.

And he felt the hopelessness fill him to the point where he couldn't breathe. Because he couldn't remove her bras. He couldn't. Because this world was twisted and cruel and turned something that made him happier than he'd ever been to something that needed to be a secret.

Anger agin. He just wanted to show them all he couldn't care less about their stupid fucking rules. He was going to grab Callie the first chance he got and kiss her senseless in front of everybody. Preferably in front of moms. Give her a good kiss. Maybe even grab her ass. That would show them.

Assuming she still wanted him to kiss her. The desperation came again as he needed her to want it. Needed her to want it to be him kissing her, to want it to be him taking her to his room, _giving it_ to her. He pictured her closing her eyes in AJ's bed, seeing himself on top of her instead. Feeling _him_ inside her. And he hoped that when she opened her eyes she couldn't escape the moment of disappointment when she had to come back to reality.

If she wanted to, he'd do it. Take her on the kitchen table as soon as she got home again. Not giving a fuck about someone walking in on them. Let them see it. How she wanted it. How he needed her. Let them see how they wanted their relationship to be like. Loving, intense, and non-apologetic. Hard. Slow. Loud.

He would dare anyone to call them brother and sister after that. They wouldn't. And no one would dare say he was some sort of.. Liam again. Not after seeing Callie crave him like that. Like she did in Idyllwild.

He wanted to cry when his anger subsided and he knew they'd never do anything like that. Because it was just.. Crazy. A good way of showing everyone just how crazy she made him but not something they could actually do. No matter how much he wanted his moms to go fuck off for this they were still moms who he loved. And Callie. She needed her family.

That was all that mattered

He sighed and started strumming the guitar quietly again. The hopelessness was there again but he knew that by the time he'd wake up tomorrow the other Brandon would be back. He'd had enough practice to shut this Brandon out that he'd be back to normal tomorrow. Back to being her brother who made sure not to spend too much time with her so that he could keep up this facade of a sister in his mind.

He didn't want to sleep yet, though. He wanted to think about her a bit longer. Wanted to miss her a bit longer. Love her a bit longer.

When he finally went to sleep that night it was with a freshly written note on his bedstand that read:

 _Don't call Cort. She deserves someone who sees her as first choice. Because she isn't yours. Not really._

 **Hi people, I really hope you feel like this was true to Brandon's character. And also that you liked the story:P**


	2. Chapter 2

The toilet paper wasn't comfortable. And as soon as the thought hit her she wanted to laugh at herself. Really, girl? She was finally home, having the privilege of peeing behind a closed door and she was complaining about the toilet paper? Jesus christ. She continued to wipe herself, and instead wondered if she would wake everybody up if she took that shower she really longed for. She'd already showered after she got home but she could use a second shower so badly. Just to wash it all off one more time. She still thought she smelled like.. captivity. And she hated it.

But she probably couldn't. It was one in the morning and even though Mariana would sleep through anything she knew Jude wouldn't. And she was scared to wake Jesus up, he shouldn't have to be alone in the dark down in the livingroom. So, she went to wash her hands and then she unlocked the door and turned the knob to step into the darkness of the hall outside. But a sudden flash of panic stopped her. It came to her like that sometimes. It was a wave of dizzyness almost, just freezing her in place like she was too exhausted to move. And if she'd move forward she saw herself going on with this emotion, carrying it with her to future moments of more anxiety.

This made her turn around, shut the door and just stare at herself in the mirror with a blank expression on her face.

Prison.

Shut up.

Prison, though.

I said, shut up.

And then she saw the doorknob turn and the door pulled open. Her blank expression was proud, thinking she avoided the awkward moment where she could have stared with horror in the mirror and the person walking in would be slighty uncomfortable, wondering why she was up all night staring at herself like she was a ghost. Now she just looked.. nonchalant or something.

But then she saw it was him. Of course it would be. And the awkward moment she thought she'd avoided was not so much. avoided that is.

"Hi.", he said quietly.

"Uhm, hey." she answered stiffly.

Why was it even awkward? They'd talked a couple of times these last few weeks without it feeling like this inside. But being alone like this, in the middle of night.. there was something secret about it somehow. The privacy of the darkness awakaned a fear in her that she couldn't shake off. When she saw him standing there with tousled hair and in his sleeping shorts, she was terrified that it would never go away. This feverish joy she felt whenever she saw him.

"I was just leaving." she blurted out.

"Oh, okay, I could come back though, if you weren't finished with..."

Staring into the mirror like a weird person? She would have said it out loud if she wasn't so desperate to get away from him. But their eyes met, he saw the joke on her face and he cracked an involuntary, adorable smile at her so she smiled back at him, in a way that made her eyes crinkle. It was impossible not to.

And the moment was gone as sudden as it had come. She looked away and made her way to the door on the opposite side of the room, leading to her room.

"Callie?", he said hesitantly.

She turned toward him and saw that he'd shut the door behind him so that they were alone in the room together.

"Yeah?"

"I just needed, uhm - I mean wanted to ask how you're doing.", he said in a nonchalant tone.

"I'm fine." she said.

She couldn't take what he was offering. She was almost angry with him for asking her. Even if he was worried about her, he should know better than to show it. One mistake was all it took, and if she told him how she wanted to die right now she knew he'd want to save her. But she didn't want him too. She didn't.

"Okay, good." he said said without any emotion at all.

"Yeah, thanks for asking." Not.

They looked at eachother and it truly was the worst. An emptyness stretched out that was as weird as it was fake. Because it was never empty between the two of them, but she was glad she could conjure up the illusion of it so it could act as a shield. Cloaking all the words she wanted to say to him.

She turned to leave again. Her hand was on the knob. God damn it. She couldn't be this cruel to him. She just couldn't. So she turned back.

"How are you after everything with Julliard?"

"I'm.. It's.. Okay."

He looked as though he was going to cry, though.

"You know, I feel like you'll get in one day. You got in once, you can do it again." she said and she knew she was right.

"Thanks, let's hope I don't screw up majorly the second time around then." he said and laughed a bit but she heard the lack of humour in it.

"Hey.. it's gonna be fine." she said in a comforting voice, but was careful not to show how much she actually cared.

He didn't say anything.

She should leave now. There was nothing left to say. His sister shouldn't want to stay here all night with him like it was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

"I should get back to bed.", she said.

"Yeah", was all he said.

She felt herself turn and walk away from him but then she remembered that she'd used up all the toilet paper. And that a stack of them happened to be right in front of her on the shelf by her door.

"Hey, you'll need this." she said and her tone cracked in a weird way at the end.

She walked the short distance back to him and held out the paper for him.

"Thanks.", he said as he went to grab it

And then their index fingers touched. She didn't know if it was because she hadn't touched him in a long time or because she knew they were alone in this bathroom with two locked doors shielding them from the rest of the world, but she felt like his finger was colliding with her entire body. And she felt a warmth spread throughout it like it was melting. The ice inside that she kept cool and frozen at all times was melting.

And she knew that _this_ was what it meant to be happy.

It was so simple really. She loved this boy.

So why did they make it so hard?

She'd been looking at their fingers. Now she looked up at him, realising she hadn't let go for like five seconds now. Not that meeting his gaze made it any easier to do so. He was just looking at her, really. Observing her. But she felt his hand cramped around the toilet paper, like hers probably was as well and she knew he was holding on to this moment as hard as she was. Just taking her in.

They probably stood there for minutes. It felt like nothing.

She started to notice how loud her breathing had become. And with that came the feeling of embaressment. And she let go of the paper.

"Sorry", she said.

She wanted to punch herself for losing control. For not keeping the ice intact.

"Why are you apologising?", he asked, confused.

She didn't really know. She'd simply learned to apologise for being herself.

"Sorry, I don't know."

He looked at her for a moment.

"So, stop it then." he said with intensity.

She said nothing.

And turned away from him. She opened the door to her bedroom and shut it behind her as she left.

The ice was safe, back inside her chest. She was the perfect daughter, devoted to her family.

Perfect. Devoted.

To the family that couldn't manage to buy comfortable toilet paper.

She opened the door again as she realised she wanted to ask him something.

He looked surprised. Though luckily not anything worse as she'd managed to interrupt him before he'd pulled his shorts down. Lucky her.

"Hey, Brandon? Don't you hate that toilet paper?"

His look turned into a confused one.

"What? Uhm yes, i guess, it's not the best." he said.

"I was thinking we could ask moms to buy a different kind tomorrow." she said with way too much passion that the matter deserved.

He just stood and watched her for a little while.

"Yeah", he said. "Yeah, we could."

She smiled at him in a way that made her eyes crinkle.

"Goodnight, Brandon."

She left him to pee then. And she went to bed with a feeling of hope. She was excited about the prospect of new toilet paper, she decided. But she wasn't. Not really.

 **Hi guys! I'm not really happy with this, but I wanted to share it anyway because I like parts of it. Tell me what you think :)**


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